


‘Cause It’s Getting Quite Cramped...

by brightlightbaby



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Cheesy, Claustrophobia, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mentions of shrek, Punk Frank Iero, Shy Gerard Way, Sort Of, Trapped In A Closet, bastard mikey, ignore timelines, leathermouth frank, mentions of rats eating people, there’s like one mention of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlightbaby/pseuds/brightlightbaby
Summary: “I... I may or may not be in a predicament.” Gerard squeaks back, and Mikey hears something rustling in the background.“What kind of predicament?” Mikey mutters through tight lips. He sees Frank look up at him curiously over his dessert with no pretense of ignorance.
Relationships: Frank Iero & Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 16
Kudos: 152





	‘Cause It’s Getting Quite Cramped...

**Author's Note:**

> This comes from an anonymous request on tumblr: 
> 
> ‘hiii! i love ur meet cutes!! can you do something where Gee or Frank is stuck in a pantry? thanks :3’
> 
> To anon I say: Ask and You Shall Receive

Mikey’s phone has been buzzing in his pocket for the last ten minutes. He’s starting to get annoyed, especially since he’s at dinner with one of his clients. 

He’s currently trying to convince Frank Iero of LeATHERMOUTH to sign over to Eyeball Records. He and Frank are already good friends, so he’s not worried. If he agrees, it could be a gigantic win for the company. Brian’s really been on his arse about getting new clients. 

“So, Frank, have you decided—”

After another round of buzzing, Mikey whips out his phone and makes an apologetic face at Frank. 

“God, sorry. It’s Gerard.” 

Frank just waves his hand nonchalantly and shovels more brownie into his mouth. 

“Go ahead, dude. I’m totally robbing you with this meal, anyways.” 

Mikey grins before turning back to his phone. It must be something urgent, because Gerard never calls if he can help it. Only about Star Trek updates and life or death emergencies. He steps away from the table, but only makes it a few feet because of the crowded line pushing to the front desk. 

“What is it, Gerard?” He sighs, trying not to sound too judgmental. 

“Mikey?” Gerard’s voice is an octave higher than usual. He also sounds like he’s in a an echo chamber. Both of these things seem bad. 

“Yeah, Gee, what’s up?” He tries to keep his voice light, seeing Frank halfway listening to his call. He knows that he probably can’t help it because they’re so close. 

“I... I may or may not be in a predicament,” Gerard squeaks back, and Mikey hears something rustling in the background. 

“What kind of predicament?” Mikey mutters through tight lips. He sees Frank look up at him curiously over his dessert with no pretense of ignorance. 

“So, you know how the cupboard only has one lock?” Gerard squeaks again, and Mikey hears a crunch. It sounds like a bag of chips. 

“...yeah?” he says, already fearing the worst. 

“And, uh... it’s on the outside?” 

It dawns on him suddenly that Gerard has locked himself in his cupboard. Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Oh my God, Gee. How did that even happen?” Mikey‘s mouth is literally hanging open. Frank’s fully staring at him now, face propped on his hand. Mikey shoots him a glare and he waves back sarcastically. 

“I don’t know! I’m freaking the fuck out, I’ve been locked in here for 10 minutes!” Gerard sounds like he’s on the verge of hyperventilating. 

Mikey feels a quick jab of guilt. He may be an idiot, but he’s still Mikey’s favorite person. 

“Mikey, I’m going to die in here,” he continues like he’s running out of air to speak with. “I never even got to finish my Batman panels. All the air is going to run out and then the rats are going to eat me. Oh my God, mom’s going to reanimate me and kill me again for dying in my fucking cupboard—”

Mikey cuts him off, a little too loudly. 

“Jesus Christ! I’m having dinner with a client, how the fuck am I going to explain that my brother got locked in his own fucking cupboard?” Mikey growls through gritted teeth, and Frank looks like he’s trying not to burst into laughter. He notices that half the restaurant is staring at him and sinks further against the wall. 

Gerard, meanwhile, is losing his grip on sanity in the dark, strange smelling room. He can barely make out the labels on the snacks in this pitch darkness. He can’t even remember buying most of them. 

“I don’t know, Mikey! Just help me!” he screeches shrilly, aware of just how pathetic he sounds. Whatever, Mikey’s seen him in worse situations. 

“God, fuck this,” Mikey groans, and Gerard hears people chattering in the background. He feels rather guilty for interrupting his meal, but he’s the only person available. Bob and Ray are at work and his parents are in a different state. And they probably wouldn’t be too thrilled to hear that he got himself into this predicament only two months after they helped him move in. 

There’s a moment of insufferable silence before Mikey sighs again. 

“I’ll be there in twenty.” 

Gerard feels a spark of hope that he might actually escape and see natural sunlight again. Not that he cares for it, but it’s what people describe in the movies when they’ve been trapped for a long time. 

“Please hurry,” he mutters, drawing his legs close to his chest and accidentally stepping on a biscuit tin in the process. 

He hates this creepy house. He just moved in a month ago, and it’s already tried to kill him twice. Once, the garage door nearly closed on his head when he was coming in with some groceries. Another time, the fire alarm didn’t sound when his stove started smoking at 1 AM after he forgot to turn it off. Now there’s the matter of the overstuffed cupboard he’s trapped in. He’s quite claustrophobic, so panicking is sort of inevitable. 

Gerard passes the time by playing some mental games. He moves quickly from Desert Island and Who Would You Rather into pure, unadulterated panic. He’s growing concerned that Mikey forgot about him. It’s been about half an hour since he last called, according to the clock on his dying cell phone. Luckily, it’s still the same day, so no time jumps occurred. 

He’s also deathly afraid that rats are running around in his cupboard. Ever since he saw one skittering about his kitchen a month ago, he’s been checking cabinets and setting rat traps just in case. 

He’s in the process of composing his own eulogy (after his cellphone dies mid episode of Doctor Who) when he hears footsteps. 

Mikey pounds on the door, loud enough to make him jump and bang his head against a rack of Wheaties. 

“I’m here to get you out, fuckhead.” He hears his muffled voice say. 

Gerard could almost sob with relief. 

“Mikey, thank fuck! Please get me out of here, I think I hear the rats coming,” he babbles, knowing that he’s making no sense. 

Mikey sighs again, and Gerard really wishes he wouldn’t sigh so much. 

“There’re no rats, Gee. And even if there were, they’d eat the snacks first. You’re probably too greasy and stringy.” 

Gerard definitely isn’t in the mood for Mikey’s shit. He’s locked in his own cupboard, for fuck’s sake. And, yes, it’s his fault, but it’s still unfortunate. 

“Fuck you, Mikey. Get me out of here!” he whines, kicking at the door weakly. 

“Not even a thank you?” Mikey snarks, but Gerard hears him digging through a drawer anyways. 

Then another voice clears its throat, startling Gerard. 

“The poor guy’s locked in the cupboard, have a little pity.”

He hears Mikey drop something that sounds heavy and he winces. He just got new tile put in. 

“No way, no how. Fucking moron.” Mikey sighs, like the dick that he is. 

Gerard glares daggers at him through the closed door. 

“Uh, Mikey? Is someone with you?” he calls out cautiously. 

Just his luck that someone decided to tag along to rescue him. God, he hopes it isn’t Bob. He’ll never hear the end of this if it’s Bob. He hopes it’s Ray, because Ray’s strong enough to bust him out. Plus, he’d be nice about it. And he’d kill the rats if Gerard asked him to. 

Mikey sighs again, and Gerard really hates him for it. Honestly, he’s not that bad. Well, maybe he is, but what did Mikey expect? 

“Yeah, it’s my client Frank Iero that I was telling you about earlier. From Pencey Prep.” Mikey pauses and turns on his ‘voice of pointed blame’. “We were having dinner when you called and asked me to rescue you.” 

“Hi!” Frank’s voice rings through the pantry. “Sorry you got locked in your cupboard. That really blows.” 

Frank’s voice is 100% Jersey. It completely matches his singing. Gerard smiles at the fact that he actually sounds sympathetic. Well, at least one person doesn’t think he’s a total idiot. He tries to remember Frank’s face in his mind, but nothing pops up. 

“It’s alright, I’m comfortable on this stack of potato crisps. And I love your band!” Gerard calls back, thoroughly embarrassed and a little starstruck. Because damn, Frank fuckin’ Iero is in his kitchen. “Sorry we had to meet like this, I’m much less awkward in person.” 

“No he’s not,” Mikey cuts in snidely, and Gerard kicks the door threateningly again. He regrets it when it rattles on its hinges ominously. He wishes he weren’t so easily startled. 

“It’s alright. I’ve met people in worse ways.” Frank laughs a very nice laugh and Gerard raises an eyebrow. 

“I find that very hard to believe.” He hears Frank laugh again. 

“It’s true. I met my first boyfriend after getting stuck in a McDonald’s ball pit.” 

That catches Gerard’s interest. Now, he’s not stranger to embarrassing meetings (take the current one as an example), but that’s unusual. 

“How did you get stuck in a ball pit?” he asks, frowning thoughtfully, and hears Frank snort. 

“How could I not? I’m five feet tall and I have no coordination. Plus, I’m fairly certain that I was completely wasted.” 

“Someone actually wanted to date you after rescuing you drunk in a ball pit?” Gerard’s brows knit in confusion as he pictures a tiny little punk in a ball pit. At least it’s taking his mind off the rats. 

“Yeah, actually. I was just as shocked as you are.” Frank chuckles. “I guess I’m just that pretty.” 

“You’re a tad cocky for someone who got stuck in a children’s playpen.” Gerard grins. “Why were you drunk in a ball pit in the first place?”

“I don’t know. Uni was wild,” Frank sighs, and Gerard hears his shoes scuffing against the tiles. Then he thinks about how weird it is that he can tell what sounds he’s hearing from the dark. Maybe being sightless this long has heightened his other senses. 

“Not for some of us,” Gerard mutters darkly, shifting back against the rack of corn chips. 

Mikey clears his throat loudly and pointedly, interrupting his brooding thoughts. 

“If you’re both done swapping stories, I’d love some help finding the key to the cupboard,” he says, putting emphasis on ‘help.’

Gerard hears Frank cough sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry.” 

They’re all quiet for a minute while Mikey and Frank rustle through the drawers in his kitchen. They’re mostly full of spare batteries and lightbulbs, and Gerard definitely doesn’t remember a key anywhere.

Gerard’s head bangs against the door with a thud. 

“Did you find it yet?” he calls through the pitch darkness. He knows it’s futile, but he’s getting pretty bored. And he really has to pee. 

“Not yet!” Mikey calls back, and Gerard can hear something clattering to the floor. Mikey’s probably wrecking his things for the fun of it. “At least you have plenty of snacks.” 

“Yeah, junk food. The last thing I want is to get fat enough for the rats to eat me,” he moans miserably, glancing around to check for rats. There’s no sign of them. Yet. 

“Jesus Christ.” Mikey sighs, sounding much closer to the door this time. “Frank, help me out.” 

“Dude, this is an excuse to gorge yourself on junk food. You literally have nothing else to eat. That’s, like, my dream,” Frank chimes in, voice bubbling with excitement. 

“No way! My body is a temple.” Gerard scoffs, looking down at his soup stained jumper and dirty trainers. 

Well, maybe not a temple. But at least a clean living room. Or one of those nice lockers with the chandelier and carpet. 

“Is it really? I mean, you do sound attractive,” Frank says teasingly and Gerard rolls his eyes. 

“And you sound like a teenage boy dialing a party hotline.” He’s smiling like a loon. “You don’t even know what I look like.” 

He’s pretty surprised that Frank actually seems to like him. He’s not at his most charming. He’s never actually at his most charming. 

“I’m still a teenage boy at heart,” Frank insists. “Plus, anonymity just adds to the appeal.”

“Kinky.” Gerard waggles his eyebrows. Then he remembers that Frank can’t see him and feels a tad ridiculous. 

“Jesus, can you guys keep it in your pants for ten seconds?” Mikey gripes, voice strained with disgust. “Fucking gross.” 

“Quit spoiling my fun, Mikey!” Gerard bangs lightly on the door. He lowers his voice so that only Frank can hear. “Always a drama queen.” 

He hears Frank snicker. Mikey lets out a long- suffering sigh and Gerard can hear a chair scraping the floor. He picks holes into the plastic wrapping of a bag of biscuits. 

“You’re the one who thinks rats are going to claw out your eyes,” Mikey points out, and Gerard throws his shredded plastic bag aside. 

“Fuck, why did you remind me?” he whines, remembering his previous fears. “I was just getting over it!” 

Damn Mikey and his big mouth. Gerard hears a clattering noise and a string of swears, presumably from big mouth Mikey. He hears Frank humming something. 

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Mikey sighs, and Gerard feels another stab of guilt for getting stuck. “I’m going to get some shit from the garage and see if I can bust you out.”

“Fine, just please hurry!” he begs, anxiety creeping back up at the thought of being left alone again. “And don’t take Frank. If I don’t talk to someone I might go insane.” 

Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but Frank is nice to talk to. No harm in him staying. He spies a box of string cheese and rips it open. 

“Sure, I’ll stay.” Frank’s cheerful voice is right by the door, and Gerard feels a rush of affection for him. 

“Gee, you’ve only been in there for an hour.” Mikey’s annoyed voice is a little further from the door. “You won’t go insane.” 

“I’m a social butterfly, Mikey,” Gerard protests, nibbling on his cheese. He forgot how disgusting plain cheese is. 

Mikey snorts derisively. 

“You most definitely are not, stop lying to seem cool to Frank. You already locked yourself in the cupboard, so I think it’s too late for that, anyways.” 

He can practically see Mikey’s smirk, which is irritating. He’s very glad he can’t see Frank’s face right now. But he’s also annoyed, because he feels like Frank looks nice. He sounds like he looks nice, at least, and he doesn’t care if thinking that makes him a teenage boy. 

“Shut the fuck up and go to the garage,” he groans again, throwing his cheese to the side. He can’t stomach anymore of it, especially since he just remembered that it would only make him more appealing to the rats. 

“Aye, aye, captain.” Mikey’s voice fades to nothing and leaves Gerard and Frank sitting in silence. 

Gerard is desperate to break the tension, fiddling with his thumbs in the darkness. 

“So, Frank— tell me about yourself. Just spout off random stuff so I don’t freak out.” He tries to sound casual, but it comes out as more panicked and high pitched than he’d hoped. 

Frank doesn’t seem to mind, though. He sniffs and Gerard hears him scoot closer to the door, seeing part of the light blocked at the bottom. 

“Um, alright. My name is Frank Iero. I’m 23, I’m lead singer and guitarist in LeATHERMOUTH, and I’m a vegetarian.” 

Okay, definitely a cool guy. Funny, creative, and environmentally aware are all in the top ten of Gerard’s ‘ideal traits for a very hypothetical mate’ list. 

Gerard hums and encourages him to continue. His breathing is more steady, and it’s nice to just sit back and listen to someone else. 

“Uh... I’m trying to think of more things about myself. Er... I grew up in Belleville, my favorite band is Black Flag. I’ve broken both my arms, and I can’t hula hoop. Oh! And I’m bisexual if you, uh, didn’t guess that already.” Frank laughs uncomfortably. 

It’s all sounding better and better by the minute. Now he’s more curious than ever to see what Frank looks like. Very cute, probably, knowing his luck. Or at least nicer than him. 

“I did, shockingly.” Gerard laughs, curling tighter in his sweater. “And I am too. Never thought that I’d be trapped in the closet again.” 

“Yeah, that blows. But it is technically a cupboard.” Frank’s voice is stretched with a suppressed laugh, and Gerard frowns at the door. 

“Hey, let me live my clichés in peace,” he protests, watching Frank’s shadow moving under the crack in the door. 

“As you wish.” 

Frank still hasn’t mentioned a boyfriend or girlfriend, so he’s kind of hopeful. Which he knows is stupid because he hasn’t even seen the guy’s face, but whatever. Frank seems like a sweet guy. And he’s actually stuck with Gerard through this whole ordeal. 

“So, Frank, describe yourself to me,” he blurts out, feeling very creepy and more than a little stupid. That’s not usually a request you make to someone when you first meet, but this isn’t all that normal of a meeting. “We’ll make a game of it.” 

Frank hums, seemingly interested, which makes him relieved that maybe he’s not being too creepy. 

“A game?” he repeats curiously. “What kind of a game?” 

Gerard thinks on the spot, staring around at his dirty cupboard. He’s pretty desperate for distraction. 

“Whoever describes themself best wins.” 

Frank is quiet for a second. “What do they win? Food from your cupboard?” 

Gerard thinks again, snuggling against the bag of crisps. 

“Trust me, you don’t want my food.” Gerard looks around at his little cupboard of horrors. “I don’t know. Bragging rights, I guess?” 

“Sounds good to me. But, uh, what if we never see each other?” Frank asks, and Gerard immediately throws his hands up in exasperation. 

“God, why would you say that?” he cries, hearing Frank laughing. His voice is scratchy, and Gerard hopes he’s a smoker. 

“For the drama, Gerard,” he says emphatically, and Gerard imagines him doing a motivational gesture for some reason. “We’ll be just like Pyramus and Thisbe, but without all of the stupid deaths.” 

“You might not want to rule out that stupid deaths option,” Gerard pipes up again. “I’m well known for being stupid.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind, especially since you got stuck in a cupboard,” Frank says seriously, and Gerard scowls. 

“Hey!” 

“Kidding, kidding,” Frank insists, and then goes quiet for a second. “I’ll go first.” 

He continues to be quiet for a moment, and Gerard can almost hear him thinking. Again with the heightened senses. 

“I already told you about the whole ‘five feet tall’ deal, so there’s that,” Frank says, sucking air against his teeth. “I‘m your typical Italian, so dark hair and dark eyes. I’m wearing an eight year old jacket with so many holes that it looks like a soup strainer. Also, I’ve been compared to human Shrek more than once.” 

“Uh...” Gerard pauses to take all this information in. “Is it weird that I’m scared of seeing you now?” 

“Not really. I’m scared of seeing me too,” Frank says soberly, and Gerard hears him clap his hands together. “Your turn now!” 

Gerard thinks about his current appearance. Stained jumper, dirty pants and uncombed hair. He decides to keep it vague. 

“I’m not five feet tall, which I think puts me at an advantage. I am pasty and greasy, though, which probably knocks me down a few pegs. I have what Mikey likes to call ‘ultimate emo hair’ as well, and I’m known for wearing a pair of skeleton gloves in summer weather.” 

“Impressive description. I can really see the imagery coming to life and forming...” he pauses for emphasis, “...Andy Biersack?” 

Gerard bursts into laughter. “Fuck off, I am not that pretty.” 

Before Frank can reply, Gerard hears something bang and another thing screech. He jumps, and then curses his startle reflex. 

“I found what I think is a skeleton key!” 

Mikey’s voice rings through the kitchen, and Gerard immediately feels relief surge through his chest. He hears Frank let out a little whoop, and sees the shadow disappear from under the door. 

“Try it out, see if it works,” he calls through the door, praying to every god in the universe that it’ll unlock. Two shadows appear in the little crack of light, and Gerard scoots back to avoid getting hit in face by the door. 

He hears the lock click immediately. The door swings open, and Mikey lets out a triumphant cry from behind a shorter figure in the doorway. Gerard realizes with a start that it’s Frank. He blinks in the sudden light, still trying to orient himself. 

His kitchen is a mess, just as he expected. Frank is grinning down at him and holding out his hand to help Gerard up. His hair falls into his very nice hazel eyes (which Gerard tries not to stare at for too long) and he notices with no small amount of shock that Frank has a lip ring. Fuck. Gerard can really understand why someone would date Frank after saving him from a ball pit. He’s fucking hot. Nothing like human Shrek at all (which is both gratifying and a bit disappointing). 

Gerard thankfully accepts his hand, and Frank swings him up from the floor of the pantry. He’s also got tattoos running all over his arms and neck, which instantly makes him the man of Gerard’s dreams. And, fuck, a leather jacket. 

“Hey.” 

Frank is absolutely beaming, holding him at arm’s length to get a look at him. His gaze makes Gerard feel a little self conscious in his dirty, cracker covered clothes. No, actually, he feels a lot self conscious. Since when are his lights so bright? 

“Hi, Frank,” Gerard breathes out, trying not to go weak at the knees. Because that would be unspeakably lame. “Thanks for the rescue.” 

“No problem. Completely worth it.” 

They stand there for a while and stare at each other until Mikey makes a strangled noise from behind them. Gerard realizes with a start that he’s still holding Frank’s hand. It’s warm and rough against his own. 

“Guys, seriously. I’m right here.” Mikey protests, nose scrunched up, and Gerard wants to punch him. 

“Shut up, Mikey.”

Gerard moves gently from Frank’s grasp and lets go of his hand reluctantly. Frank gives him the tiniest little smile, and he melts. 

“Yeah, shut up, Mikey,” Frank echoes. “You’re killing the moment.” 

Gerard’s heart skips a couple of beats. Frank’s got dimples. Fuck.

“Gross.” Mikey groans and fully walks away from them to sit at the counter. 

Frank is still staring heavily at Gerard, who isn’t doing anything much better (he may be discreetly checking out Frank’s arse and he may not be). Then Frank sees that Gerard is wearing a tomato stained Misfits jumper. 

“You like the Misfits?” Frank says, kind of awestruck, raising his wide eyes to meet Gerard’s. 

“Yeah, they fucking rock.” Gerard laughs, pulling his sleeves over his hands and going pink. “Danzig was a babe in the 80s.” 

Frank whips around to face Mikey. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had such a cool brother?” he demands, wagging his finger in Mikey’s face. “For shame, Mikeyway.” 

Gerard‘s face burns while Mikey groans with exasperation. Again, Gerard thinks, such a drama queen. 

“Because I’m trying to get you to sign with Eyeball, not set you up on a blind date,” Mikey huffs and rolls his eyes. He didn’t deny the cool part, which makes Gerard wonder if he feels bad for being such a bully. 

“You could have done both.” Frank smiles at Gerard (who can’t breathe all of a sudden). “Besides, we both know I’m going to sign with you all.” 

Mikey’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, you guys are great. I just had to get you to wine and dine me first.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Mikey, who looks less than amused. He puts his head in his hands and sighs loudly, glasses dropping on the counter. 

“I didn’t even get to do that. You had to help me rescue my brother from his own cupboard.” He jerks his thumb at Gerard, who doesn’t even get the chance to to defend himself before Frank jumps in. 

“And I’ll say it again... totally worth it.” Frank smiles at him again, and Gerard’s stomach swoops. He smiles back weakly. 

“So you’ll really sign with us? No fucking around?” Mikey peers at Frank sternly over his glasses, scanning his face like a human lie detector. 

“Yeah, I’ll sign.” Frank nods, and Mikey whoops with joy. He looks like Christmas has come early. 

“Yes! I’m going to grab the contract.” He rubs his hands together and shoots up from the counter. 

He snatches his keys off of the phone book by the door and makes a break for the garage. Frank watches him go, laughing fondly. 

“I love that kid.” He turns back to Gerard, leaning against the counter. “He can be so sweet when he wants to be.” 

“It’s such a shame that he never wants to be, isn’t it?” Gerard sighs and grabs a water bottle from the fridge. 

He’s still plotting some major vengeance against Mikey for embarrassing him in front of Frank. He’s thinking about something involving water balloons. 

Frank cuts off his train of thought by pressing closer in his space against the counter. All functional brain activity suddenly flies out of the window, and maybe he squeezes his water bottle too tightly. 

“So... are you disappointed?” Frank drags a finger across the countertop next to Gerard’s hip, lips turned up at the corners. Gerard has to tear his eyes away from his hands. 

“I... what?” he says, very intelligently, and Frank laughs again. That’s a sound he needs to hear more, he decides. Plus, his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, which might even be cuter than the dimples. 

“By my description!” Frank beams, eyes bright. “I thought I was dead accurate.” 

He definitely wasn’t. 

“I totally win the game. You’re a hell of a lot hotter than human Shrek.” Gerard giggles, and then chokes on his water when Frank‘s eyebrows shoot into his hair. Honestly, why does his mouth betray him? 

“Really?” Frank grins slyly, and Gerard turns his head away to look for a place to hide. 

“Yeah,” he says quickly, moving away to plop down onto a barstool. “And, um, shorter than I thought, even though you said five feet.” 

Frank cocks his head and smirks, moving to sit next to him. He feels like he’s in a game of cat and mouse. 

“Is that a... bad thing?” Frank asks, and he smells like cigarettes. Fuck, yes. He knew it. 

“No! It’s really cute, actually,” Gerard clarifies, completely aware that he’s gawking at Frank like a creep. His brain really needs to get in sync with his mouth. 

“Cute?” Frank smiles into his hand. “Now who’s being a teenage boy?” 

Gerard ducks his head, ears burning. Frank moves his hand from his mouth and laughs, stretching back in his stool. 

“I’m just fucking with you, I think it’s sweet.” Frank reassures him, still leaning closer. “You were a lot less shy in the cupboard.” 

Gerard coughs quietly, because he needs something to fill the ever decreasing space between himself and Frank. The lights are still way too bright. 

“Well, then I wasn’t, uh, looking at you.” He gives Frank a not-so-discreet once over and looks back down at his shoes. “And you didn’t have to see me in direct light. So I thought, you know, I could scare you off with my personality before I exposed you to my vampiric charms.” 

Frank barks out a laugh, startling him. Gerard knocks his mental tally of Frank laughs up another notch. Frank suddenly swivels on his stool to fully face him. 

“You’re not honest in your description, you know.” He says earnestly, and his eyes are filled with a weird sort of intensity. He seems like he’d be a really good salesman. Hell, anyone who could convince Gerard that he’s not a pasty emo vampire could be a fantastic salesman. 

“I don’t know about that.” Gerard raises an eyebrow, half joking and half serious. “Pale, greasy, emo... it checks all the boxes, Frank.” 

Frank blinks like he’s surprised and nudges himself a bit closer into Gerard’s space. He also seems very touchy- feely, which is fine with Gerard. A lot more than fine. 

“Well, sure, but you made it sound like it’s a bad thing.” He does a sweet little half- smile, and Gerard feels his heart flatline for a second. He’s sure of it. 

“...It isn’t?” he asks cautiously, wary of a joke or a trap. Frank keeps staring at him with earnest, open eyes, though. 

“Not at all. I’m very fucking charmed, if I do say so myself.” He grins, and Gerard blinks dumbly. 

“Really?” His eyes must be the size of saucers. “I mean, I never thought I would live to see the day where I could charm an attractive person like you.” 

Frank’s expression softens even more, and he looks a little nervous. Gerard can’t stop staring at his lip ring. 

“You could charm me longer if you want to grab a cup of coffee in a while?” Frank says slowly, looking nervous for the first time since they’ve started talking. 

Gerard is floored. He’s never met anyone that wasn’t scared off by his personality in less than an hour. But Frank seems in it for the long haul, and fuck, he’s excited. 

“Holy shit, yes!” Gerard cries, and then blushes when Frank laughs at him. “I mean, yes. That sounds appropriate,” he says airily, trying not to do a little dance. Frank sees right through him. 

“Nice try, Mr. Excited. You’re all cute when you’re flustered.” 

That really makes him turn red, which just makes Frank laugh harder. 

“Shut up, Shrek.” Gerard sticks his tongue out childishly, and Frank puts a hand over his heart and makes a shocked face. 

“Hey, you said that wasn’t accurate!” he cries, nudging Gerard’s shoulder with his own, and Gerard laughs again. 

“So, I guess neither of us win the game?” 

“I’ll call it a tie if you will.” Frank beams. 

They spend the next few minutes discussing their date, with Frank waving his arms around and making lots of suggestions and Gerard staring blankly at his face. Mikey walks back in on them and sighs, slapping the contract down onto the counter. 

“Did it happen? Did he ask you out?” he asks like he doesn’t really want to know. Gerard stares at him, surprised. 

“How did you know that I was going to ask him out?” Frank asks indignantly, and Mikey rolls his eyes again. His favorite gesture. 

“Frank, any guy who actively chooses to stay with my brother for more than ten minutes is a charmed idiot.” Mikey raises a pointed eyebrow at Gerard, who scowls at him. 

Frank doesn’t deny it. He just looks back at Gerard with another crooked smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Pretty much.”


End file.
